


Right Where I Belong

by PorcelaintoSteel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcelaintoSteel/pseuds/PorcelaintoSteel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa can take no more. A slow night with a certain someone brings her closer to figuring out what she does want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Where I Belong

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fic! (Hope it isn't too bad. I didn't have a beta for it.) I've already posted it at ffn. I have a bunch of other story ideas for sansan right now! :)

"Well I've had enough." Sansa whispered to no one as she pulled herself up from the crowded table. Everyone continued on laughing and drinking seemingly unaware of her departure. Joffrey had already been in a drunken stupor before they even got to the restaurant. No matter to Sansa, this was her breaking point. She no longer wanted to be the girlfriend who was insulted and looked down upon. The girlfriend who was thrashed for absolutely no other reason then just being there.

Sansa darted outside to the busy side walk; it was a Friday night in the city that never sleeps. The sounds of the city swelled in her ears, momentarily dulling her other senses. The cold air hugged her body, causing her to shiver. Her gray pencil skirt, rose blouse and peep toed heels were definitely not the right attire for this sudden cold spell. She was picked up right from the publishing office and went straight to the Baratheon/Lannister dinner. More like a wolf dropped in a den of vicious lions.

She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. She quickly turned around, panicked, thinking it was Joffrey coming to drag her back inside. Instead she met a pair of steely gray eyes and instantly relaxed.

"Little bird, it's kind of cold to be loitering don't you think?" Sandor rasped. Half of his face twitched in what she knew to be a grin. The burns stopped scaring her ages ago. In the past few months she had learned many things about Joffrey's "Hound." Shattering his macho man persona.

"I'm not loitering, I'm leaving. As soon as a taxi stops that is..." Sansa replied.

She stared at him waiting for the response she would almost bet she knew was coming. The, "save yourself some pain girl, and just give him what he wants." So she was floored when she felt his large dinner jacket engulf her. She inhaled deeply, appreciating his woodsy scent. It reminded her of back home, in upstate NY.

"So the little bird no longer has any songs to chirp?" Sandor chuckled. He side stepped her then and headed towards the curb. She watched as he hitched his lean and broad body to the side, trying to catch a cab's attention. His corded muscles were easily seen through his thin button up; and his firm rounded ass was perfectly outlined in his black slacks. Sansa inadvertently licked her lips. She wondered how it would feel to be enveloped in his thick arms.

Sansa snapped out of her reverie when she felt Sandor grab her hand. The feel of his palm against hers sent sparks throughout her body. He led her to the yellow cab waiting with it’s door open.

She was distraught at the thought that this would be the end. Sansa was just starting to enjoy Sandor’s company, at first she thought him brazen; that honesty was now one of his best qualities. She knew he didn’t think much of his “stupid little bird.” But sometimes when the looks they shared carried on a second to long, she could swear he felt something too.

She slid into the taxi, and was rather surprised when she felt Sandor slide in beside her.

She looked up at him dumbly, trying to hide her faint smile. Sandor’s look could be one that mirrored hers.

“212 Avenue B,” Sandor barked to the driver.

“Where are we going?” Sansa inquired. She knew that was in the East Village, but that was the end of her knowledge about their destination.

“I don’t know about you little bird, but I’m in dire need for a fucking cup of coffee.” Sansa turned away from his intent gaze briefly, his eyes warming every inch of skin on her chilled body.

“A cup of tea would be amazing right now, plus I wasn’t looking forward to going back to my empty apartment,” Sansa countered. Hoping Sandor would catch the meaning in her words.

It seems he took total understanding in her words for Sandor had made to grab her hand again. Their eyes deadlocked with one another. Her eyes were on the edge of his lips when the cab made a complete stop.

He swiveled his body towards the car down to make an exit. Breaking the moment they had just shared. Sansa scrambled out after him, as elegantly as possible in her constricting skirt.

Upon exiting she saw they had arrived outside of a quaint little café, B Cup Café. They entered inside, and she was immediately hit with a delicious aroma. It smelled of cinnamon rolls with another strong scent of fresh brewed coffee. It was warm and cozy inside, with rich orange walls, white beams and shiny cedar floors. There was chalkboard paint on one wall with all their specials. Jars of various sizes were lined up on the expanse of the bar, filled with huge cookies or decadent brownies.

It wasn’t that busy. There were only a few other patrons seated on some plush red couches, most with laptops or books in hand; paying no attention to the colossal man who just entered the café.

Sandor ordered an ordinary cup of coffee, just black. He turned to Sansa to ask her for her choice of tea.

“I would love lemon zinger tea if they have it.” She answered happily.

He gathered the tray which held both mugs, the tea bags and cream and led them to a small table well secluded near the back. She pulled out her chair and sat down comfortably, Sandor facing her.

“Why do you work for the Lannisters?” Sansa blurted. She didn’t know how that question she had silently asked herself left her mouth. Sandor just laughed, which she assumed was much better than his customary grunt or scowl.

“The pay is good.” He finally replied.

“Why do you stay with Joffrey?” Sandor retorted. His eyes focused on hers wordlessly willing her to go ahead.

She knew why she started dating Joffrey. He seemed like the perfect guy, rich, handsome, successful. That was just his exterior though; everything she thought she loved was just a show, a veil that covered his true nature. That he was arrogant, heartless and abusive; these things shattered whatever love she may have felt. Sansa dreamt of leaving a hundred times over. She even mustered up the courage on more than one occasion, earning her a few choice bruises. Then she would remember both their fathers, and how they thought them to be a great match; one day uniting their families as they were meant to be. This odd sort of duty to the deceased was what kept Sansa tethered.

“I guess I feel I owe it to my father. You were there, the day my family had that dinner with the Baratheons. Though you did no more then grunt and glare. I know you were watching everything.”

He nodded, putting his mug back on the circular table. “I don’t exactly get paid to mingle little bird.”

“You didn’t miss any spectacular revelations. Robert was already halfway through his second bottle of wine and just hitting on every warm blooded woman in the room. I didn’t even realize Joffrey was high on cocaine, I just thought he was enthusiastic!”

At that Sansa laughed at herself, holding back her tears. She studied her tea intensely. Not wanting to meet the pair of eyes across from her. She didn’t have much of a choice as now Sandor’s hand was lifting her chin up to meet his gaze.

“God, I was so stupid. A stupid little bird.” She admitted.

Sandor brushed his thumb the length of her bottom lip. The contrast of his calloused pad against her soft flesh elicited a flash of heat throughout her body. She knew her cheeks were probably a deep shade of crimson by now.

Sansa leaned into his touch. Reveling in the complete feeling of comfort and safety she felt with Sandor.

“Naive, yes. Stupid, no. I know I've said things, kind of brash things...” Sandor started.

“No! Not Sandor Clegane!” Sansa said sarcastically earning a chuckle from Sandor.

“I just often forget how it is to be young and optimistic. What it's like to see the good in the world and people, however buggering fleeting it is. I'm just an old hardened pessimist.”

“Excuse me. What are you, seven years older than me? Are you telling me it's all downhill from here? I highly doubt that,” exclaimed Sansa. “But I understand, I've only been in the company of the Lannisters a few months and it’s nearly broken me.”

“I’ve seen those claws of yours on more then one occasion. Like that night at the club when you ’accidentally,’” Sandor said enunciating the word slowly “kneed Joffrey in the balls...”

“How was I to know it was him trying to grope me from behind?" Sansa cringed at the memory. Much like every other outing with Joffrey, he was wasted before they even walked into the tacky club.

“For one, there were mirrors around the whole fucking place. I hadn't seen such a rampant case of narcissism since that douche Loras Tyrell!"

“Okay, so maybe I did catch a glimpse of Joffrey approaching...” Sansa reluctantly admitted. “But I was having none of his games. Not after he had a complete meltdown about the news I told him from my job.”

“I seem to remember the little prince's outburst. Well not the cause, though it really could have been any damn thing. I just know there was plenty of broken glass due to whatever you told him.”

“I knew he wouldn't be happy with what I told him, but I didn't expect him to flip out and act so childish,” she sighed. “The publishing firm I work for had offered me a promotion.”

“He threw a fit over that?” asked Sandor.

“Well… it was for a position in their London office. Meaning I would have had to move. It wasn’t even that I had told him I accepted it. Just that it was offered,” she said after a deep breath.

“The little shithead isn’t used to working for something. Everything he has has been handed to him on a fucking platter,” Sandor said with a scowl.

“I can’t say anything, I’ve had a pretty fortunate upbringing myself…” she wandered off.

“Oh please! You can tell your parents actually instilled values into you and your siblings. Maybe less with that little bitch sister of yours. She’s a spit fire,” he chuckled.

“I’ll admit Arya is not everyone’s cup of tea. But she’s not like any of those jackasses in the Lannister clan,” Sansa added.

Sandor held his hands up in a mock gesture. “Whoa there are those claws! Did Lady Stark just curse? My delicate constitution cannot handle such language!”

Sansa blushed deeply at his words while Sandor was in a fit of mirth. She soon found herself laughing too. Thinking how odd it was that this man brought out a more steely form of her, but also managed to lighten her spirits as well. She rather liked this new side Sandor was able to bring out.

Soon there was nothing left but silence, their drinks long gone. The silence was anything but awkward though, if anything it was comforting. When Sansa thought about it, it was kind of ridiculous how once she was so terrified of the man sitting in front of her. But she has long since learned the truth about appearances. Her lips upturned at the image of Joffrey braying like the jackass he is.

It was then that the pair had noticed most of the other patrons had left the little café. Sandor stretched out his long limbs and gave a yawn.

“And now it’s the time for the tell tale caffeine crash. What do you say little bird, ready to head out?”

She nodded after she glanced at her watch and saw it was nearing eleven. It had been a late dinner night. Thankfully she wasn’t needed in the office tomorrow; she had just finished revising a manuscript earlier that day.

Sandor stood and offered his long coat to her again. It draped over her thin form like one of those 5 minute ghost costumes someone would fasten out of an old bed sheet.

Her apartment was only three blocks from where they were. She began to wonder how Sandor knew which direction to walk in; when she recalled the day when one of the Baratheon company press conferences got a bit out of hand and he had taken her back to her apartment. After Joffrey loathed to even see his own girlfriend back to the safety of her apartment.

It was a crisp night and it would have been perfect for star gazing if they were in any place other then Manhattan. She used to love to lay out with her siblings and name the constellations, sometimes making up their own names and stories for the stars. At that moment she felt an overwhelming sense of homesickness. It had been over a year since she had been with her family upstate. She remembered how the last time she saw Arya, her enormous husky Nymeria, had nipped Joffrey. Sansa laughed at the memory as she recalled how Joffrey had freaked out and the dog hadn’t even broken his skin. Nymeria never bit anyone; she should have paid attention to her judge of character right then.

“Something amusing you little bird?” He asked with a raise of his good eyebrow.

“I was just thinking of my family. And how the last time I saw Arya her dog had bit Joff. Then how he proceeded to cry…” she turned to him with a smile wider than the Lannister yacht.

Her next sentence was more morose, “I really need to get upstate. It’s been way to long, too many things have happened. I think it’s time to check on my family. What remains that is.”

Her father had passed away in a fatal car accident; coincidentally Robert Baratheon had also been in that car. Her mother had spiraled down into an abyss of never ending grief. She had a nervous breakdown as she was also dealing with Bran, her little brother who had been paralyzed crossing the crosswalk by a driver texting while driving. Robb her eldest brother was extremely busy with taking over her father’s company. Arya was still raising all kinds of hell even in college, when she bothered to show up that is. And Rickon was so young she felt badly about all the change he had to deal with. Sansa had left before her father had died; she had even seen him three days before he died because he was in the city dealing with some business deals.  
She also remembered her half-brother Jon who had left home too. She felt guilt for never really getting to know him before he left for the Navy. Now she had no clue what country he was in or how she would even get in contact with him. It was Jon and Arya who always had a tight knit kinship, they were able to bond over martial arts and cop movies.  
“I think you should do just that. Get away from this godforsaken city for some time.”

They came upon her complex, the bodega across the street that served as an adult video store offered some seedy people late at night. Sansa no longer thought of it though, she did carry some mace in her purse if need be. She enjoyed being financially independent, even though she was technically a “trust fund baby” it was just a fall back for her.

She felt that Sandor was just being protective when he walked her all the way to her door. She felt a strange tension building the closer the elevator brought them to her floor. Sansa turned to gauge his reaction and found him devoid of any facial expression, the same look he wore while with Joffrey.

Sansa recounted how nice the evening had been. She hadn’t enjoyed anyone else’s company in a long while. A very long while. At times she didn’t even feel like she deserved to be happy. She was done with that game though, she deserved happiness. In that moment she realized, simply, Sandor made her happy. And had for awhile. Whatever fragmented pieces of time they had spent in each other’s vicinity ultimately were her happiest.

As the elevator dinged and opened to let them off onto her floor, Sansa knew she needed to do something drastic to put herself out there. She was as strong as steel, she told herself.

Before she could even contemplate her next plan of action, Sandor’s lips were upon her. Momentarily throwing her off guard. His kiss was chaste at first but she soon deepened it, showcasing all their built up enthusiasm.

She threw her arms around his neck and surrendered her mouth to his exploring tongue. He had her locked in his embrace, his arms encircling her slender waist; his hands resting atop the swell of her hips. They were molded together like a puzzle piece, frantically searching for her door.

She fumbled around in her overlarged bag for her keys. Sandor trailing open mouthed kisses down her jaw, fogging her dexterity as it took two tries to get the key in right. 

She threw the door open once she felt the lock give and without prompting, Sandor kicked it shut. He turned her and she was shoved roughly against the wall. Her hands were fisted in his hair, then trailed down his masculine back, feeling the definition of his taught muscles, until finally she kept them at rest on his hips.

She playfully nipped at his bottom lip, receiving a throaty growl from Sandor.

Her eyes twinkled at the look of total desire in Sandor's gray depths. She was about to crush her mouth to his in another combination of their respective passions when he turned away. Leaving her chest heaving and a little more than confused.

"I'm sorry Sansa. I shouldn't have taken that liberty. And I certainly shouldn't have let things gone that far," he made for the door when she grabbed his wrist.

"No you don't. You don't get to make me feel like you were returning my feelings, that you had felt everything too, and then take it back!" she all but shouted.

"Feelings little bird?!" he rasped out. "What could you possibly feel for a monstrosity like me? We come from the most polar opposite of worlds! I'm barely even fit to trail your heels!"

"For one, I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions. Don't treat me like some petulant child. Two, what is this, the 1800s we don't have to be matched with people of similar social upbringings." 

"Besides, haven't you heard that opposites attract?" She asked demurely, her lips just centimeters from his; swollen from their previous encounter. She rested her hands on his pecks and leaned in to close the distance.

She started slow. Massaging his lips with her own, until the fire started to build again hotter than before. He grabbed her ass causing a moan to escape from her; it was swallowed up by him reverberating through his body. She in turned wrapped her legs around him, she urged him towards her bedroom never breaking contact.

Sansa was glad that she had thankfully done laundry a few days ago, and her wardrobe was actually put away and not thrown about her bedroom floor.

Sandor trailed his fingertips down the curve of her body, starting at her neck and giving her goosebumps once he brushed along her nipple, where it peaked immediately. 

"Please Sandor, I need to feel your skin against mine," she groaned as she shouldered his jacket off.

As if those were the words he had been waiting to hear he savagely ripped her blouse open causing her to gasp. He cupped both breasts in his hands and kissed the valley of her throat moving down her body slowly. When he reached the top of her skirt he pulled the zipper down until the skirt pooled at her feet along with her ripped blouse.

She was left standing in her underwear and peep toed heels, his heavy gaze mapping her body closely. 

"So beautiful Sansa. I didn't think you could be this perfect," he said breathlessly. She smiled at his airy admission.

"Now it's your turn," she said as she made to unbutton his shirt. He shrugged off his dress shirt. Once off, she raked her fingers through the hair on his chest trailing kisses down his body the way he'd done with her. She reached his jeans and rather shyly unzipped them. He hurriedly kicked them off along with his boots.

They were brought back to the present as they stood there staring at each other clad only in their underwear.

Sansa slowly slid her bra straps down her shoulders, never breaking Sandor's gaze. She reached around her back and unhooked the garment, letting it hit the floor.  
Then she shimmied out of her bottoms, daintily stepping out of them. She could see the hunger in Sandor's eyes deepen, his pupils blown with desire.

He hesitantly stepped towards her. She met him with another forceful kiss. Her mouth slighted to fit his. Sandor scooped her up in his arms and gently laid her on the bed. He lay down next to her, pulling her close so their bodies were flush together. She could feel his erection against the inside of her thigh.

Feeling empowered by the fact she had this big brutish man turned on, she climbed on top of him. She reached down and pulled off his remaining article of clothing. His cock sprang free and jutted forward. Sansa could feel a fresh flood of wetness between her thighs. Her body was on fire with desire. She started kissing and licking every inch of skin before her. Earning her several throaty groans.

Just as she was about to make for his cock, Sandor flipped them so now she was pressed into the mattress. He nibbled her neck, and then took one of her breasts in his mouth making her squeak out loud as he kneaded her other. It was all too much, she needed some relief to the building pressure.

“Sandor...” she sighed. Understanding the urgency in her voice he brought his face up to hers.

“Condom?” he asked breathlessly.

“I'm on the shot,” Sansa replied.

She brought one of her hands to cup his cheek and pulled him in to suck on his tongue. He held her close, as she started grinding her hips into his manhood, arching her back off the bed to get some much needed friction.

Sandor took it as his queue and he entered her in one swift thrust. Their moans both mixing to make a sweet melody. He started to rock in and out of her at a deliciously slow pace. Sansa pushing herself up to meet his hips halfway.

“Ughhhh... fuck Sansa.. you’re so tight,” he cried. Sansa was lost in all the sensations her body was tumbling through. She wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing him closer and now at a new angle. Her hands were gripping his shoulders tightly.

He had his head in the crook of her neck, sucking at her pulse point. Delivering her closer to the edge.

“Please S-s-sandor.. harder!” He gripped her under her ass and started working even harder. Their bodies slick with juices, working as a well maintained machine. 

Sandor was hitting a spot in her she never knew existed. Joffrey was always terrible in bed, and more often then not she just counted the minutes until he found his release. Sandor’s cock filled her up completely.

She closed her eyes to see a culmination of colors swirling about. Sandor’s raspy voice forced her eyes open.

“Uhhn little bird, I'm so close...” Their bodies rhythm growing erratic. Her nipples stimulated from his chest hair and the pressure of the rubbing.

“Mmm me too!” she all but shouted.

Her body was shaking with pleasure as her toes curled, with two more thrusts she was falling, she felt weightless as she was thrown through the best orgasm she ever had. Both of them shouting each other names through their equal releases. Still grinding together to draw out their pleasure, sweaty foreheads meeting. They lay there, eyes open, gasping for air.

“Sansa... I think I love you,” he whispered. He looked nervous and much like a little boy then, afraid of rejection. Her heart swelled and tears pricked her eyes, because she knew and had for awhile; she loved him too.

“Sandor, I do love you.”

His eyes widened as she smiled at him. He pushed his lips to hers in a fervent kiss, slower this time as if reassurance she wouldn't up and leave eased his mind. They broke apart but he tucked her under his arm and she cuddled against his immense torso.

She fell asleep to the rise and fall of his chest and his fingers working themselves through her hair.

When she awoke the sun was streaming through her drapes, making specks of dust dance in the air. She lifted her head up to get a glance of the still sleeping Sandor. Their limbs were intertwined in a clumsy mess. His face looked so peaceful while he slept; she studied the measured intake of his breathing for a couple moments. Sansa also marveled at his warrior like physic. She had never seen or felt such solid muscle; he was covered in scars which just increased her craving for him. The scars were a testament to all the battles he had won.

She became acutely aware of her need to go to bathroom. This proved to be a challenge as her one arm was wrapped around his neck. Bit by bit she detangled herself, trying hard not to disturb her sleeping giant. Which Sansa realized was one of the best ways to describe Sandor, a giant. Her kind yet abrasive, honest, loyal, funny and sexy giant.

Sansa finally managed to slip off the bed and she made her way to the bathroom. One look in the mirror and Sansa had to do a double take. Her hair was a tousled mess and her eye makeup was smudged. She lightly traced the bruises on her neck and chest and smiled, as she remembered their whispered confessions of love. It was a true smile, one she hadn’t worn in awhile. She relieved herself then hopped in the shower, cleaning the evidence of their love making off her thighs.

After washing her hair she got out and toweled off. She threw on a gray sweater dress and some black lace tights. As she applied her mascara she heard stirring in the adjacent room. She poked her head out the bathroom door and saw Sandor sitting up, his back to her.

Sansa tip toed across the floor, trying to surprise him.

“Where are you flying off to little bird?” Sandor asked groggily with a smirk. She reached the bed and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“I don’t know about you, but I could go for a fucking cup of coffee,” Sansa beamed.


End file.
